waving, not drowning.

i wonder how i talked tonight about degeneration and deterioration of the gyri and the sulci and the widening of the ventricles of the brain, pointing to the photograph to illustrate the point that language and memory simply lose the structures of their homeland. the walls dry up and empty space occupies what used to constitute the substance of a life. this person's reason for laughter or tears, the stories and griefs and gratitudes, the timbre of their voiced expressions....everything dissolves into nothingness as if nothing ever was. it was only ever a dream. and did you blink and miss it? was it a dream that scared you and kept your eyes open, staring wide into the dark, waiting for light or was it a dream that lifted you into the amphitheatres of your own heart, audience and performer, delighted with joy and magic and all possibilities of love?

strange, this house, this body.

this thing that holds the spirit so heartily, then one day just turns away and siphons into empty air.

we are no more real than those memories we hold. those memories that end when the house is razed. existing only in another's home and another, until the whole neighborhood has been torn down to make room for the high rises. so, then what is the point?

not bad or good or right or wrong, just is. just is. just is. and then, just is no more.

and we are the waves, feeling the swell of our life rushing to the shore as if we alone can strike and imprint the lasting signature. and then, by the pull of the moon, we are carried, in surrender or resistance, back to the sea. a sea, so much sea, that a wave is only a momentary expression, a passing and common breath.